The Day It Was All Over
by Amber SanGiovanni
Summary: When Wilson buys House the Hammond B-3, are the looks exchanged between them entirely platonic? Wilson is glad that House is home from Mayfield. Alternate ending to the events of 6x15 "Black Hole." House/Wilson Slash. Rated M for explicit sexuality.


**A/N: Hello again. While I love writing about my OC, Rose, multichapter stories are a large project to undertake. One shots help the general writing muse. This story takes place after House gets out of Mayfield, specifically after 6x15 "Black Hole." Any dialogue you recognize came from that episode. Furthermore, I don't own the characters, etc. This is a one shot rated M for explicit sexuality.**

 **Read, Enjoy, Review!**

 **-ASG**

Today it was all over. All the months of withdrawal and pain and anger. All the times he had to 'open up' and 'share his feelings.' All the yearnings for what had been. For who had been. Today it was all over. Today, they hoped to never see him again. Well, except Nolan, but he'd just have to deal with that when he came to it. For now all that mattered was the man approaching in the sleek silver Volvo, the elated sparkle visible in his dark eyes, even through the windshield.

He plopped down into the passenger seat with a grunt, and the driver smiled, glancing sidelong at him. For the first time genuinely in months, he smiled back- even if it was only his usual crooked smirk. To him, it seemed nothing had changed between them. The silence in the car was amiable, if not comfortable, and the men both relaxed more than they had since this all began- in eachother's presence once again.

He stared out the window watching the scenery whiz by, his eyes drooping with drowsiness as the comfort of the car and the man next to him lulled him into a light sleep. Some time later, they stopped a diner somewhere, he had no idea where. Downing a Reuben and a plate of fries like he hadn't had one in months- well, he hadn't, actually- he finally was content enough with the idea of it all being over to talk.

"Hey." Was all he said, glancing up at the younger man across from him. A crooked grin pranced across the other man's lips as he replied back in kind.

The rest of the drive occurred in silence. But that wasn't something that was new to their relationship. They, of course, often discussed work and interesting clinic cases; hot nurses; incompetent subordinates. All of the above. But rarely did they make any sort of unnecessary small talk. It did not need to be asked of either of them how the last three months had been- it had been equally miserable for both. Their friendship was one built upon silent understanding of boundaries. Problems are only discussed when brought up directly by the one possessing them, touching only occurs on a nonchalant basis. They often touched, knees brushing under the table, or shoulders together on the couch, but there was no intentional contact- not unless it was strictly necessary.

Once again lost in his thoughts, he noticed a nano-second too late that the driver had missed the turn to his apartment.

"Where the hell are we going, Wilson?" House demanded, tapping his cane impatiently. "I just want to go home. Don't tell me you planned something stupid. Did you?"

Wilson just shrugged, smiling to himself, and endured the badgering for the five extra minutes it took to drive to the condo he'd recently purchased. When they reached the door, Wilson unlocked it, and, with a small flourish, declared "Welcome home, House."

Thankfully, upon stepping inside, he was not met with balloons or food or people. There was no welcome back, there was nothing stupid. There was nothing. Literally. Nothing. It was just an empty space- except for a horrendously orange couch placed in the middle of the floor.

House raised an eyebrow and grunted, shaking his head ever so slightly, leaning his cane against the wall to slip out of his shoes.

Rubbing the back of his neck Wilson replied, "I haven't actually furnished it yet- but there are beds and I brought most of your stuff over from the apartment." Not waiting for acknowledgment, he strolled down the hall to the bedrooms, knowing House would have no choice but to follow.

"Each has an ensuite bathroom and similar furniture…" House plopped down on the bed fully dressed and rolled away from Wilson, sighing with slight contentment at having a halfway supportive bed. Wilson smirked, knowing he wouldn't get anything else out of him tonight, and shut the door behind him.

 **HWHWHWHWHWHWHWHWHWHWHWWH**

The next morning was House's first day at work, and, although he would never admit it, he was quite excited. For House, medicine and curing patients was the most important thing in the world. When Wilson got out of the shower, House was centered on the ugly couch, eating cereal and toast. The latter setting directly on the couch cushions.

"Would you mind at least putting a napkin under your jelly toast?" Gathering his things for work.

"Buy a dining table and I won't eat on the couch."

"Yes you will." Wilson scoffed, shrugging into his coat.

"But I won't have a good excuse."

"Why don't you go get a table?"

"Not my condo"

"You have my permission," Wilson sighed, "pick out whatever you want."

"But then it would be a reflection of me and not you, and that wouldn't be right." House replied.

"Nooo," he chided, "it would be a reflection of that fact that the guy who's been mooching off me for as long as I can remember isn't a complete ingrate."

House looked down, defeated for the moment. Then he realized, "you've never furnished a home?" He asked mockingly.

"I have furnished a bunch of homes." Wilson answered without missing a beat.

"No." House continued to berate, "you've married a bunch of women who've furnished a bunch of homes."

"You want something to eat of off?" Wilson demanded, more bite to his voice, "Move your piano in here and eat off of that."

"You're afraid." House accused.

"Of a dining table? You know they don't actually come to life when you put a knob off your bedpost on them." Wilson deadpanned.

"You are what you sit in. Your friends, your job your furnishings, all defines you."

"You don't really believe that, you just don't want to do the shopping."

"Buy some furniture, or admit that you're empty inside." House challenged, a sly smirk making its way across his lips.

 **HWHWHWHHWHWHWHWHWHWHWH**

While House was at work, Wilson snuck out and rented a set of furniture, picturesque out of a magazine. House arrived home before Wilson, took one look at the impersonal atmosphere and promptly returned it all. When Wilson arrived back home to an empty apartment again, House had amended his challenge.

"Go to the store and find one thing you like. One thing!"

Wilson spent hours in the store. Sitting on everything he could find to sit on, even nearly buying a patio table as a dining table before he finally gave up and hired one of the store's decorators to do the work for him. He did though, find something of his own accord out of the antique music store across the street. Something he knew House would look past the furniture for.

When House walked into the condo the next day, he immediately knew something was amiss.

"Whatdya think?" Wilson asked, innocently

"I think you wussed out and used a decorator."

"Why cant that be me? A wuss who loves decorators?"

"Because it's not." House admonished with slight exasperation.

"Okay, it's not, but don't return it, I can't keep doing this."

"You have to. You can't keep letting other people define you." House pointed out.

Finally noticing the large object in the corner obscured by a sheet, House peered curiously. "Not another elephant." He groaned.

When he relinquished the covering, underneath was a beautiful Hammond B-3 organ. House's eyes lit up. He hit a few notes, and looked back to Wilson, almost giddily. "Decorator didn't pick this."

"You'll have to buy your own cape." He teased, beaming at House's near childlike enthusiasm.

"I like what this says about you, Wilson."

Throughout the song that House played next, Wilson continued smiling at him. Unbeknownst to Wilson, he was just within the older man's peripheral vision, and House inwardly returned the smile. When he finished, he pivoted around on the bench, unable to hide his smile now. The men looked at each other, pure, unadulterated joy radiating between them. Then House looked down, sheepishly, flushing.

"What?" Wilson asked gently, taking step towards House.

"I just... When I was in… I miss… Thank you." He finally settled on, still avoiding Wilson's gaze.

Taken aback by House's unusual display of emotion, Wilson flushed and lowered his gaze as well, his hand migrating to rub the back of his neck. "I'm glad you like it, I… I wanted you to feel.. as at home here as possible. I know that everything is different and you… well… I uh, I'm happy that… I wanted you to know that I'm... "

"Wilson." House said in a low voice.

Wilson looked at him, and when chocolate met cobalt, it was a blur of movements until the two men were locked in an embrace, lips hungrily kissing each other. Both men reached a moment of coherence a few seconds later, and Wilson leaned back from House on the bench. They peered at each other, both equally confused and slightly horrified. When Wilson opened his mouth to say something to fill the silence, House took it as an invitation to stick his tongue inside. Wilson grunted in surprise, but otherwise was receptive of House's advance.

Both men shrugged out of their jackets. Wilson moved down to suck along House's neck, unbuttoning his wrinkled shirt as he went. In the next minute, the men were awkwardly stumbling down the hall to Wilson's bedroom, erotic groans and moans gracing the air. They landed finally on the bed, naked. House finally surfaced from the kiss and sucked in a lustful breath at the sight of Wilson beneath him, their hard cocks pressed between them.

Blue eyes twinkled as he kissed his way down Wilson's body, making him shiver with each nip and peck, finally grazing his tongue over the slit of Wilson's erect member, pre-cum assaulting his tastebuds. Wilson shuddered and hissed, throwing his head back at the sensation.

House continued to tease the younger man, never taking more than the head in his mouth. When Wilson had finally been reduced to squirming beneath him, he began the torturous trek again, kissing his way back up Wilson's torso. Fingernails grazed his skin, digging into his back and groping at his ass as he finally arrived back at Wilson's lips.

Wilson bucked his hips, forcing their groins together and sending a bolt of lightning up House's spine; he was surprised to find that the needy moan suddenly filling the air had come from him, not the writhing form beneath him.

Taking the overwhelming moment as his chance, Wilson deftly rolled them over and straddled House, playing with his nipples as he ground their cocks together desperately. Just as he toed the edge, he realized this wasn't what he wanted. Whatever this was, whatever they were doing, it shouldn't be feral and animalistic, it needed to be more than that.

Slipping off of House long enough to find the lube in the nightstand caused the older man to whimper with need, the sound alone nearly enough to send Wilson crashing over the cliff. But when House realized what he'd retrieved, his eyes went wide and he groaned in anticipation.

Slicking up a finger and gently prodding House's entrance, Wilson kissed everywhere he could reach as distraction to House while he prepared him- sliding in one finger, two, three. On the third, he nudged the man's prostate, causing his hips to jolt and a moan to be lost as a gurgle deep in his throat. Deeming him ready, Wilson looked to House for final confirmation. The dark sapphire lust in his eyes was answer enough.

Pushing in gently, Wilson slid all the way until he was completely sheathed. He waited until House's discontent squirming had ceased before shallowly thrusting a few times.

The pressure and the tightness surrounding Wilson's throbbing length was mind-blowing, and, judging by the way he jerked and whimpered every time Wilson struck the little node inside him, House was in as much ecstasy as he was.

"god Wilson… please.. ohh… fff.. faster!" House cried, attempting to push back against Wilson's already erratic thrusts.

Taking House's swollen and leaking cock in his hand and pumping in time with the movements of his hips, Wilson gladly obliged, skin striking skin, hot, wet, lusty sounds permeating through the air.

Wilson could feel House's member throbbing in his hand just before a hot, sticky stream hit his chest. For a split second, every part of House melted away, leaving behind the totally enamoured face of a man with no pain, and the look of pure euphoria on his face enough to push Wilson over the edge as well, spilling his seed into the man whose name he called out as his limbs went to jelly and he collapsed adjacent to his lover.

Eventually, their breathing evened out and Wilson chanced a look to House. His blue eyes glowed in the darkness of the room, and though they were trained on the ceiling, the older man's thoughts were far away from the newly painted drywall. Wilson tentatively reached out a hand, brushing House's bicep. He recoiled from the touch for a moment, purely out of surprise, and then turned to face Wilson.

Although perhaps it was the time to say it, House didn't have to. The newfound fire blazing in the deep entrenches of cobalt was enough for Wilson to know, without a doubt, that his best friend of twenty years was in love with him. Wilson moved to rest his head on House's chest. The other man sighed contentedly and wrapped an arm possessively around Wilson's shoulders. In reply to House's unspoken declaration:

"I love you, too." Wilson whispered.

House squeezed his shoulder. Today it was all over. All the years of waiting.


End file.
